Alpha’s Thirteenth Bride

Ayara watched me with sharp, suspicious eyes. "Eve, since when are you this generous? Is that really Lucian in there? Or did you just drug some random werewolves and now you're trying to trick me into going in so he'll mark me? Then you'd have Lucian all to yourself, wouldn't you?"

I couldn't blame her for not trusting me. Everyone in the pack knew I'd been in love with Lucian for years, and I'd turned down several strong Alphas who'd tried to court me because of him.

Everyone also knew that Lucian, the commander of the Border Guard, took his responsibilities seriously, and the Rothwell family had an ironclad rule—one wolf, one mate for life. Right now was the perfect chance to marry him and become his mate, so why would I give that up?

But in my past life, even after I got what I wanted and he marked me, I ended up dying a horrible death.

That was when I'd learned the truth that Lucian had been in love with Ayara, his childhood sweetheart, all along.

Now that fate had given me a second chance, I'd rather die quickly at Draven's marking ceremony than go through the agony of being torn apart by a dozen feral wolves again.

"Ms. Frostclaw, you've got it all wrong," I said carefully. "Lucian and Marcus are best friend, so I've always seen Lucian as family. You're the one who grew up with him, the one he actually loves. I just can't stand to see him separated from the person he cares about. If you don't take this chance now, do you really want to marry Draven and walk straight to your death?"

Before Ayara could respond, the man inside the room groaned, his voice raw and desperate, barely recognizable. "Eve, you're out there, aren't you? Please come in. I'm begging you..."

It was the sound of an Alpha in heat, pushed to the breaking point and on the verge of losing control completely.

Ayara's face went pale. She clearly recognized Lucian's voice. She didn't hesitate anymore and shoved the formal notice from the Royal Council into my arms. "At least you know your place," she sneered. "But you've been clinging to Lucian for years, and now you suddenly want to let go? How do I know you're not planning something?"

She stepped closer, and her voice dropped to a vicious whisper. "Unless you stay out here and guard the door, I'm pushing you in there right now. And trust me, Lucian only has room for one person in his heart—me. If you try to crawl into his bed while he's out of his mind with rut, he'll never forgive you once it's over."

I knew what she was really doing. She wanted to humiliate me. Werewolves had sharp hearing, and she wanted me to stand outside that door and listen to everything—every sound, every moment—until whatever foolish hope I had left for Lucian was utterly destroyed.

But I didn't dare fight back. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't bear to repeat the nightmare of my past life.

When I nodded, Ayara let out a cold laugh and pushed the door open.

"Ayara?" Lucian's voice was startled, but within seconds, his rut-addled instincts overpowered everything else. He pulled her down beneath him with desperate urgency, and his eyes blazed with unmistakable desire and joy.

In my past life, when he looked at me, all I ever saw was disgust and resentment—the look of a man forced into something he hated just to survive.

I quietly closed the door.

But the sounds still found me. The breathless gasps and low murmurs slipped through the wooden barrier and burrowed into my ears. And then there were the scents—Lucian's pheromones tangling with Ayara's, seeping through the cracks in the door like flaming arrows that burned through my chest and tore at everything inside me.

My wolf was howling. She was screaming in anguish because the Alpha I'd loved for so many years was claiming someone else.

I stood there for two hours before the room finally went quiet. The door swung open, and Lucian appeared, wearing only a black t-shirt, his body still radiating heat and the chaotic mix of post-sex pheromones. His eyes widened when he saw me. "Eve? What are you doing out here?"

He seemed to remember something and kicked me away, his voice sharp with anger. "Are you really this shameless? You know damn well I don't want you, but you still hide outside the door eavesdropping like some creep. What, are you trying to feed your sick fantasies? Do you have any self-respect left?"

His kick sent me sprawling to the ground, and my palms scraped against the floor.

I'd played the desperate, lovesick fool for so long that this was precisely what he'd expect from me. Of course, he'd think this.

I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off coldly. "Don't think I'll suddenly fall for you just because you played nice and brought Ayara here to help me through my rut. I've already temporarily marked her, which means I'll be taking her as my mate soon enough. The Rothwell family has never marked a second partner—not once in our entire bloodline. Stop fooling yourself."

I swallowed down the bitter ache in my chest and nodded. "I know. It won't happen again."

I turned to leave, but voices drifted over from down the hall where several servants were working and gossiping.

"The Royal Pack already sent out the results for Prince Draven's mate selection to all the unmated she-wolves. I heard those high-born ladies were shaking when they opened their letters, and thank the Moon Goddess none of them matched."

"Whoever got matched is cursed. They say Prince Draven has some horrible hereditary disease and that his mark kills his brides. All twelve of his previous consorts are dead, and the rumors say they died gruesome deaths—their bodies came back home in pieces, brains splattered everywhere."

"Being the Alpha Heir's Luna sounds prestigious, but really you're just walking to your death. This thirteenth bride probably won't even survive the marking ceremony before she becomes a corpse."

Lucian's brow furrowed, and he suddenly called out to me. "Eve, did you receive a letter? Let me see it."